


Permutations

by Bloodnok



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Gen, Pacific Rim!AU, canon compliant character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-10 23:10:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10449666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloodnok/pseuds/Bloodnok
Summary: When Vax is taken by a kaiju, Vex has to find someone else to drift with if she wants to get him back.





	1. Vex

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ciwu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ciwu/gifts).



It takes a moment for the connection to sever. When Vax is ripped from the harness, from the jaeger, from her side, she can see for an instant through his eyes. Vex watches as she falls away from him, her eyes wide with horror, reaching a hand out for her brother as he is lifted into the darkness. And she sees it with her own eyes; the same features in a different face, a parallel hand reaching for hers, a matching dread on his face. She falls to her knees and _Trinket_ follows, sluggish. The creaking protests of his metal limbs seem so much louder with half the cockpit torn away and – and without her brother’s voice in her mind.

“Vax?! Vex?!” Pike’s voice comes over comms from _Monster Stonejaw_ , “Where you at?”

Static answers. It matches the noise in Vex’s head, feedback and distortion where there should be Vax.

She watches, still not sure what’s she’s thinking. It’s jarring enough coming out of drift back at Greyskull, with half the jaeger’s functions shut down and nothing but familiar, comforting stimuli. To be dragged out of drift mid-fight? Her hands still reach for the weapons at the end of their/her/ _Trinket_ ’s arms. Her brain still sees in sensors, thinks in proximity warnings and precise calculations. At least comms is the same, the familiar buzz in her ear unchanged.

“We have a confirmed life sign inside _Trinket_ , _Monster Stonejaw_. Please proceed with target neutralization.” Later, she will reflect on the matter-of-fact singularity in that statement and want to punch whoever made it. Later still, she’ll remember how understaffed they are and that only one person speaks with such clinical detachment. She has already punched Percival by then, but she does it again just to teach him.

The hulking figure of _Monster Stonejaw_ , easily the biggest jaeger they have, is still standing over her.

“Vex?” Pike’s voice comes over the radio again.

“I’m here, Pike. I’m” –so far from, never going to be– “Okay. Go get him.”

“Okay!” Grog’s voice cuts into the transmission as _Monster Stonejaw_ turns to back to the kaiju – it’s a little one, and somehow they’ve been holding it in one giant mechanised fist. The free arm swings around, a huge mace-like fist impacting with the kaiju’s body and sending rippling waves of disruption through the flesh where it lands. The hand gripping the kaiju clenches and it bursts in two places, its head flying off like a champagne cork, dripping cerebrospinal fluid while the rest of its viscera spew out from the piercing wounds the mace made.

Vex should feel something –relief, elation– they’re the only ones left on the battlefield, somehow alive again. But there’s a hole in her heart, a space at her side, an echo in her ear and she is numb. She watches as Grog and Pike let the kaiju drop into the Osmitt Sea and turn towards her. Nothing. As their arms come out to cradle _Trinket_ ’s still whirring body, lifting it easily over one shoulder, Vex is looking past them, to the flat and featureless ocean. A kaiju took Vax that way. She will follow. She will find him. She will bring his bo- she will bring her brother home.

~

 _Monster Stonejaw_ is not the fastest jaeger, especially not when carrying a second jaeger in a fireman’s lift, but the Keep isn’t far. If they were fighting miles offshore there might have been an argument over the benefits of salvaging _Trinket_ , but this close the need to conserve resources trumps considerations like time and Percy’s peculiar objection to cannibalising old and broken jaegers for parts.

Vex is in shock when they arrive, barely registering Pike’s presence at her side as Grog lifts her – gently cradling, not haphazardly slinging – and carries her to sick bay. The next patrol has already set off – _Hostile Takeover_ and _Arcane Avenger_ – so there are fewer people to flock to her bedside. It still feels crowded; Gilmore and Scanlan both in brash purple hues, clashing fiercely enough you mightn’t notice their drawn faces; Percy, ash-white where his skin shows through the grease; Pike and Grog, ignoring their own wounds for now; Keyleth trembling fingers tracing a months-old scar the provenance of which Vex can easily guess and with them… the shadow.

Vex is used to feeling-not-seeing Vax. He has always hidden in shadows and she has always been able to sense him, even before drifting. They’ve left him the space he should occupy and she’s not sure they realise it. People would guess he’d be between Gilmore and Keyleth, the two he cares for most, her excluded, but that’s not Vax. He’s present when he’s with them, pushed out of the shadows he loves so much and into full view. He lurks behind Percy, behind Grog, the ones he wants most to annoy or beside Vex, again, to make her name apt. They’ve allowed him that space, subconsciously, but he’s not here to fill it. Fuck _that_.

She sits up, setting off the screeching protests of whatever machines they plugged her into. She stands, a little shaky – Percy is nearest, offering an arm but she takes his shoulder, clasping it until she remembers how these legs work, without the claws _Trinket_ has to dig into the ground. They are watching her in nervous silence.

“I just… I’m going to go get cleaned up.” The stillness that follows in her wake is unnerving. Her brother would have seen how upset she was and followed. She knows them well enough to imagine what they’re doing; the mimed argument between Pike, Keyleth and Percy about who will be coming to talk to her and when. She sighs. Let them come.

Keyleth wouldn’t have been her choice for first comfort. They’re close, of course, but Keyleth lacks Percy’s smooth words, Pike’s unflappable confidence. It’s hard to watch her muddle through conversations, especially when they’re important, to find the right words.

“Vex?” Keyleth finds her in the back hangar, where they keep incomplete things - broken jaegers no-one has convinced Percy to scavenge from and the ones no-one wants to touch. _Trinket_ is here, still with that massive, ugly wound exposing the mess of machinery beneath. “Do you want to talk about it?” Vex shifts to glare at Keyleth but she’s not looking. She’s looking past _Trinket_ , to the jaeger beyond. Red paint peeling under a layer of dust, _Dragonborn Princess_ sits where it has for the last three months.

“Do you?” Now Vex knows why Keyleth has come, instead of one of the others. She’s been here before. Has felt how Vex feels. She lost her co-pilot too.

“I – I understand if you don’t.” Cynical parts of her mind say ‘that’s a no’ before she has a chance to quash them. Vex shrugs and turns back to _Trinket_. She feels Keyleth sit beside her, legs pulled up to her chest. Minutes pass in silence. “It’s horrible, isn’t it?” Keyleth says at last. “The hollowness. Everything seemed to echo for me, for days. Like my head was empty.” Vex nods without meaning to.

“I feel… like they took half of me, and left me with half of him, but… _dead_.” She staggers through the words, choking up over them and letting the last escape as a whisper. Keyleth nods and reaches down beside her. She presses something into Vex’s hand …cool and smooth – glass? A bottle. Oh.

“It helps to numb the pain a bit,” Keyleth says and Vex, looking up, notices tears are flowing silently. “Until you’re ready to face it.” Vex nods and takes a swig of the drink. It’s palatable, enough that it must have come from Percy or Gilmore, and Vex can only think of what a waste that is right now, when she needs the bitter along with the intoxicating. Tomorrow she’ll have things to do and they will sting and crush and try to break her and they might well succeed. Today, she’ll sit and rest her head on Keyleth’s shoulder and they’ll drink until they forget why they feel this way and the wretched day will end a little quicker because of it.

~

It takes a day or two before she can bear to review the combat footage. If she’s to drift again – and she must – she has to know what went wrong, has to force herself to be like Percy; cold-blooded, analytical, _practical_. Vex forces herself into the War Room and finds Percy, Pike and Grog there, along with two of the Keep’s non-jaeger guards; Cordell and Shayne. Dully, she realises the battle is still their most recent contact; this must be one of the dreadful post-encounter briefings that the Council insists everyone at an outpost must sit through. Usually, with the monsters they fight obliterated, there’s little of use to be gleaned from such meetings. Vex knows some people – she thinks of Allura, scientist-come-soldier and Keyleth, soldier-come-monster-biologist and of Gilmore, trader in the obscure – get something close to helpful out of them and Percy, well…

Percy spends half his time in the Workshop, redesigning, rebuilding, repairing their jaegers, and the other half here, watching every single piece of footage available, reviewing every angle and every moment of every fight. Pinpointing weaknesses, some to exploit and others to ameliorate. Vex is certain his hands never still; there is always a note or calculation, a sketch and, when the fine work is too difficult, when his hands must be cramping with the strain, he retreats to his Workshop and shifts scale, bending and shaping metal macroscopically, until his dexterity returns.

He is the one chairing this little briefing session and his flow doesn’t break when she enters. They’re still in the tedious beginnings, all ‘minutes of last meeting’ and ‘orders from Emon-on-high,’ so Vex allows her attention to drift to the screens. She watches _Trinket_ and _Monster Stonejaw_ set out from Greyskull on patrol, the Keep providing the visual on the main screen until they’re out of range; the rest of the monitors have read-outs from the two jaegers, tracking combat readiness, fuel, the stress on various weak points, status of the pilots…

Vex watches the main screen all the way through, fitting all the information around the memories in her head like so many puzzle pieces. She watches from _Trinket_ ’s external cameras, just as she did before, as _Monster Stonejaw_ turns towards the blip on their radar. She watches from _Monster_ ’s externals as _Trinket_ falls onto all fours, adopting the quadrupedal run that is their fastest speed. One eye instinctively falls to the monitors that show closing distance and range to the kaiju and she loses herself for a second in the memory. They only had the first kaiju, the little one, and they’d been reckless, confident of themselves and _Trinket_ , eager to rile Grog a little by getting sole claim to the kill.

 _Monster_ provides the view that she hadn’t had in the moment; the little kaiju recoiling in terror as _Trinket_ strikes out with claw-like forearms, one layered with a nasty poison she believes Keyleth concocted at some point after being grounded, the other red-hot, sizzling with some of Percy’s handiwork. The rise of the roiling ocean beside-behind them, lifted by the mass beneath. A mess of writhing tentacles, reaching out, dragging them back. Vex winces as she recalls the impact of something sharp and hard, the way it had made _Trinket_ shake.

“I know that one. That’s Clarence.” Grog’s voice has a hint of surprise, as it always does when he makes a contribution to these things.

“Clarence?” Percy’s voice has a scandalized tone. “We’re giving the monsters nicknames now?”

Grog growls and cracks his knuckles “We have unfinished business.” Vex isn’t interested in listening to them bicker. Her eyes are on the monitors, on the images recorded by _Trinket_ and _Monster Stonejaw_ , her brother being taken from her, constantly looping through the different angles. She won’t say it, not until she’s absolutely sure.

“Vex?” Pike reaches up a hand to her shoulder.

“He’s alive,” she whispers.

“Huh?”

“Look – there!” She points to the rear-view camera feed from _Monster Stonejaw_ , recording the kaiju’s retreat. “He’s still struggling in its grip. He’s being taken alive.”

“Why would they do that?”

“I don’t know. But I’m going to get him back.”

~

What is drifting? Vex doesn’t know. Vex doesn’t care. She had it with Vax instantly, some sort of twin thing, something they’d shared since birth. But for the others… Grog and Pike are friends, unlikely but strong and solid, in agreement about almost anything and when they disagree… well it’s hard to say if Grog’s rage and bloodlust will tempt Pike away from more sensible paths or vice versa. Kima and Allura, she’s pretty sure, are lovers, as are the Wildmount transfers, as are plenty of other teams from across Tal’dore. But Tiberius and Keyleth weren’t… is it just a connection? Is that all it takes? Maybe. It’s worth a shot.

Keyleth is the first person she goes to. After their talk in the hangar Vex thinks maybe losing your co-pilot is enough, maybe that will be the connection. She lies to Keyleth about what she wants out of sparring, telling her it’s just to work out her stress, a coping mechanism. Maybe that’s why it fails, why she still feels the pull of the vacuum where her brother should be, why she never makes the connection. But Keyleth wouldn’t have come if she’d told the truth.

After hours slamming and being slammed into the soft floor of the sparring room, Vex gives up in disgust. Whatever drifting is she doesn’t have it with Keyleth. Maybe they’re too different. _Maybe you’re trying too hard_ , the soft ghost of her brother whispers in the back of her mind. She grimaces, pained by the lifelike picture she paints in her mind. There is a solution to trying too hard, though, and it makes her smile as her stomach twists. Vax would hate it.

The Workshop sprawls over multiple levels, accessed by ladders and walkways of uncertain stability, pulled together from whatever material there was to hand. It’s large enough to fit several jaeger limbs, all in various states of construction. Semi-armoured mazes of metal, covered in the scaffolding Percy uses to get wherever his sharp little mind takes him. By the door is a wide desk and a chalkboard, both covered with illegible scrawling, broken here and there by a clear sketch of some new design. Percy is sitting there now, bent in furious haste to solve some new problem.

He doesn’t look up when Vex approaches; she is quiet and he is focused and she hates to interrupt almost as much as she loves it.

“Percy?” He starts, just a little and she puts her hand on his shoulder to soothe him. “What are you working on?”

“Oh just…” he waves a hand at the sketches of jaegers strewn across the bench. “Redesigning the cockpit.” Vex traces the nearest drawing with a finger. It’s a cutaway diagram of a generic jaeger – a vaguely humanoid skeleton, with the conn-pod on top like a helmet. It takes a moment to decipher more. Here, the circuit diagram for the complex computer that facilitates the neural handshake; there, a sheet of neat calculations of distances, how far the two pilots could be from each other and still maintain a combat-viable connection. She looks back at the first sheet and sees marked a series of distances, two overlapping arcs of fixed radius, their intersections circled.

“You want to separate the pilots.” Her voice sounds odd, distant and echoing in her own ears.

“Yes. I have noticed in the past that when the kaiju have a particular success they attempt to repeat it. Usually, the variety in our jaeger designs means that they are unsuccessful.” He is still drawing, his dextrous fingers quickly rendering from nothing another jaeger – she is not sure he knows it’s _Trinket_ , his shoulders a little wider and the head taller, more obvious. “However, the conn-pod is a constant across the jaegers, a weakness they share.” The design he’s sketching begins to cut away, showing two pilots in two separate pods, connected by an intricate web of wiring. “If they were to learn to target that…” Vex thinks of her brother, pushed back to that moment when she _was_ him, desperately fixing his eyes to her face, taking that last breath in unison and – Percy was still talking.

“Hm?” Her soft-voiced confusion makes him pause and turn to look up at her.

“If you’re separated physically, they can’t learn to attack at the weak point.” He finishes and sits for a moment, blinking at her from behind his glasses. Then frowning, he puts his hand up to cover hers at his shoulder. Only when he touches her does she realise she is shaking. “Vex, what –“

“Percy, I wouldn’t lose that last glimpse of my brother for _anything_. You can’t separate the pilots it – I couldn’t stand the thought of being trapped in _Trinket_ , unable to even see him as he –“ her voice shakes as much as her hand. Percy stands and pulls her into a hug. Vex imagines she can hear his joints groaning like a jaeger, he’s so stiff, but he holds her steady as she collapses against him. She relaxes, gradually, like an uncoiling spring and she knows with Percy it will be effortless.

“Drift with me,” she whispers, head resting against his shoulder.

“What?” He jerks back, in surprise and… alarm?

“Fix _Trinket_ and be my co-pilot when I go after my brother.”

“Oh no, I don’t – I’m not a pilot.”

“You could be. With me. _For_ me. Please, Percival…” He is backing away now, half tripping over his chair as he falls back into it. She moves forward and he shrinks away, rolling off the chair and leaping to his feet in the shadows of his Workshop. He tugs at the bottom of his waistcoat as he reaches for composure.

“I’m sorry Vex,” he breathes, “I don’t drift. With anyone.” He toys with the cuff of his shirt, transparently avoiding her gaze.

Vex takes a deep breath, ready to berate and cajole him into giving in and stops. His fingers move with nervous speed, but his face is fixed. He seems frozen, staring at the mass of papers of his desk without seeing them.

“Percy?” No response. “Just- just fix _Trinket_ , will you?”

“I will Vex,” His voice is distant, dispossessed, like it comes over a radio and not from the man standing in front of her. “I promise.”

~

Vex sits at their regular table in the mess and waits for something to happen. Her food is as enticing as ever and she lets it cool before beginning to shovel it mechanically into her mouth. It’s quicker to eat this way, no need to linger over mouthfuls that might burn her throat. It’s not Laina’s fault the constant stream of monsters from the Osmitt make good produce so hard to come by but Vex doesn’t even have the energy to smile through it anymore.

“So Vex,” a cheerful voice drawls, “Is Percy finally going to tear that useless jaeger of yours up for parts?” Vex drops her spoon into the stew and turns, ever-so-slowly to glare at Scanlan. He raises his hands not quite apologetically enough. “Kidding.” Unlikely; Scanlan’s had it in for the twins’ prized Mk I since the Mk IIIs came out and Percival’s been tinkering with designs for Mk Vs for months now.

“Scanlan!” Pike’s outraged voice carries across the hall as she and Grog enter. Scanlan winces and Vex gives him a leering smile.

“Unlucky.”

“Always, in love,” Scanlan sighs theatrically and slides onto the bench next to Vex; Grog takes the place opposite her, Pike next to him. They are a good group to sit with. Scanlan is rarely at a loss and brings all of his practised wit and charm to bare when Pike is present. Pike is more reserved with Scanlan present but she and Grog rub off on each other to be more brash by the minute and with Scanlan present, Pike has no opportunity to turn the conversation to topics Vex would rather avoid. In all, the meal passes pleasantly, until Scanlan puts his foot in it again. This time, Vex is less forgiving.

“So Vex, I hear Percy has been tinkering with the conn-pod design. Do you think if _Trinket_ was retrofitted, you might have a chance of keeping your next pilot?”

It might be the implication that it’s _Trinket_ ’s fault her brother is gone, or the implication she should move on from Vax and find someone else to stand in his stead but Vex is past caring. She leans across and shoves Scanlan to the ground. He is small enough that the impact is soft but it seems to carry through the room just the same. Vex glances up and meets Allura’s stern, disapproving gaze. Beside her, Kima is nodding at Vex, taking no trouble to hide her approval.

“If you have a desire for violence, Vex’ahlia, I would recommend you and Mr Shorthalt take it to the training rooms. They are equipped for sparring."

“Yes, Allura,” Vex says, surprised that she has avoided any sort of formal reprimand from the most senior person on the base. She reaches down and curls her hand into Scanlan’s shirt, pulling him to his feet. “Come on.” He doesn’t resist, physically, but he does burble protests, apologies, pleas as she half-carries him out of the mess.

As she passes Allura, Kima is looking up at her co-pilot pleadingly and she swears she hears Allura murmur “If you must,” and Kima give a soft ‘whoop’ before she joins Grog and Pike in trailing after Vex.

As they approach the training room, Scanlan does start to struggle; Vex lifts him bodily and continues. She has wasted _days_ , mourning a brother who might not be dead and failing to drift with people; Enough! When they reach the training room she slams through the door and throws him to the ground. As soon as he’s free he twists; he might not be a pilot, but he’s had some experience in combat, enough to know how to fall. Vex isn’t furious enough to want to hurt him, but she needs something raw, rough and physical and hasn’t the emotional energy to find someone to fuck right now.

Someone – Pike? – throws Scanlan a staff, which he catches, clutching it to his chest. Vex stands back, waiting.

“Now Vex,” he says, still grinning, the shit, “I know you want a fight but be warned; I could hurt you.” Kima snorts and Vex wants to laugh – how does he do that? Put her at ease, all aglow with affection for her fellow man when really she wants to deck anyone off-base that gives her the slightest justification. It’s a skill, but at the moment it’s also aggravating and Vex feels justified in lunging for him.

He is quick, damn him, and she misses by inches. She twists, anticipating a retaliatory staff blow that doesn’t come. Scanlan has scrambled to his feet and is holding the staff out between them. Vex knows that she’s at a disadvantage; unarmed, facing an enemy with a pole-arm. In close quarters as well, which has never been her specialty. But it’s _Scanlan_ and she isn’t willing to concede just yet. She lunges again, this time sliding along the pole, anticipating his thrust and somehow managing to slide over it when he swings, wild, trying to knock her off balance. He steps to the side to avoid her fist and she smirks. She _knew_ he would try that and she’s ready, sweeping a leg out to dump him on his ass again. This time he’s ready for her, jumping over it with a dancer’s grace.

The staff comes back and Vex catches it in one hand without looking. Odd. She twists and now Scanlan can’t escape; letting go of the weapon would give Vex too much advantage. Instead he pushes it back, trying to jab in her in the stomach again. She twists aside, another hair's breadth dodge and slides down along the staff to grab at him. They release the staff at the same time and it falls onto the matt, ignored. She is reaching a hand to twist in his tunic, something to hold on to as she slams his fist into him. He puts up both hands to block it, eyes squeezed shut. When her fist slams into his open palm it takes a second for his eyes to open - wide in surprise and then sudden understanding.

Vex pauses, panting, looking down at Scanlan. She lets her arms drop to her sides as he stands and brushes himself off. He looks up at her with the cocky grin that precedes his truly terrible remarks.

“Now, I have to ask, because it’s Me; did that feel as good for you as it did for me?” She’s still furious, of course, full of rage against a world that would take her brother away from her. On top of that, spreading like glass over steam is certainty, a groundedness she knows she’s been missing. We’re _drift compatible_! On balance, shoving him seems the best response.

~

That night, she takes her brother’s lockpicks and breaks into Scanlan’s room. When he stirs he has a few moments of unguarded fear and surprise, then he gathers himself and smiles. “You could have just knocked! I never refuse a lady entrance to my room.” Vex laughs and gestures towards the door.

“Come on, we’re going for a walk.”

“We are?” Scanlan’s constant bafflement is certainly more bluff than he lets on. He takes a long look at Vex, in her drivesuit, “Do I need to wear anything special?”

“One of these, if you have one.” Vex shrugs; she isn’t interested in waiting and taking the time to do this properly. If you can drift without a suit in a training room, you can drift without a suit in a jaeger.

“I do!” Scanlan races off towards his closet and pulls out a shimmering piece of fabric. It’s unlike any drivesuit Vex has ever seen, purple with gold for the electrical components. When he pulls it on – not bothering to turn in modesty, of course – she notices the plunging neckline and giggles.

“That’s very Gilmore!”

“Well the man has excellent tastes,” Scanlan replies. “It’s from my dark and dangerous past.”

“As a musician?"

“Yep.” Vex’s mind rapidly shuts down the many questions she has about this – no time!

“Come on, we’re leaving.” She turns and stalks out of the room.

It takes Scanlan a corridor and a half to catch up with her, on his short legs. It takes him another two to work out where they’re going.

“Uh, Vex?”

“Yes.”

“Why are we going to the back hangar?”

“That’s where _Trinket_ is.”

“You want us to go in that thing?! West?! To where the kaiju are?”

“Yes. My brother was alive a few days ago and the kaiju took him. He might still be alive now. We’re going to find out.”

“Okay…”

The hangar is dark and cold like a tomb, without the whirring of machinery that signals a living jaeger, even on standby, constantly maintained by automatic systems and, where necessary, a living body or two. Vex makes her way to _Trinket_ and stops short. Someone has placed a thin ladder against one broad shoulder, providing access from this ‘ground floor’ to the comm-pod above. A faint blue light, barely enough to reflect against _Trinket_ ’s brown-clad metal, issues from the access hatch.

“Percy?” She calls up. There’s a blunted clang from inside.

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to take _Trinket_ out for a run, am I alright to come up?” There is a pause, then a horrific screeching sound, a buzz of electricity and a muffled grunt.

“Yes, yes everything’s fine.” Beside her, Scanlan gives a snort of disbelief. Vex tries not to show she concurs. When she reaches the conn-pod it looks unfinished; tangles of wire run across the space, creating trip and choke hazards. Awkwardly placed patches of hastily welded metal cover the holes, but lend to the generally untidy look of the place. Percy has in the past had the decency to cover the more _surgical_ looking elements of the jaeger-pilot interface but now the suit/machine interface stands – Vax’s side has been hastily reconstructed, she realises – with a host of sharp edges, looking distinctly _predatory_.

Percy is standing in the centre of the conn-pod, watching the screens as they run through the standard pre-launch checks. He doesn’t notice Vex until she pushes into his space, blocking his view of the screens.

“What were you doing?” He blinks and there’s a pause as he processes the question.

“You asked me to fix him.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to lose sleep over it.”

“No?” Percy’s voice is full of mild surprise, as though staying up all night tinkering on a co-pilotless jaeger was normal. “It seems it was helpful at any rate; _Trinket_ is certainly functional and I’ve added one or two tricks to help him keep up with the newer jaegers.” He rubs his hand along a curve of brown metal affectionately. “You will still need – ah.” Scanlan’s head appears in the hatchway. He pulls himself up over the lip, lowers himself as far as he can and drops a few inches down onto the floor. Percy is already back to considering the screens. After a second or two he nods.

“Everything seems in order. _Trinket_ should be functional for non-combat scenarios, as a minimum.”

“What about combat?” Vex is transparent, she knows, but she trusts Percy not to bother trying to stop her. He has certainly encouraged less sensible things in the past.

“Possibly?” His voice wobbles as it rises, and he opens his mouth to say something then closes it abruptly. “I’ll run the launch sequence from hangar, then?” Vex nods and he vanishes in a flash of blue; throwing himself out the hatch and sliding down the ladder like it’s a fireman’s pole. She hears the dull sound of his boots landing on the polished floor and a minute later the launch sequence begins.

“ _Standby for neural handshake._ ” Vex shakes herself and steps into position. She and _Trinket_ have work to do.


	2. Percy

“Keyleth!” There is a desperate balance to be kept; loud and frantic enough to wake her without drawing the attention of the whole facility down upon them. “Keyleth!” Percy raps on the door again, louder this time, and nearly catches her face as she throws it open.

“Percy?”

“Vex and Scanlan have taken _Trinket_ after Vax. Come with me.”

“What?” Percy takes her hand, not having the time for explanations, well aware of how bogged down they can get in details. He pulls gently until she starts moving and then he breaks into the sprint he has been holding back. Keyleth follows but he knows her well enough to feel the slight hesitance behind it, the concern. He leads her to his Workshop and through it, back to where he keeps his secrets, at least the ones too big to thrust beneath his skin.

“Percy?” Keyleth asks again and he is certain it is the only way he will ever imagine her saying his name. Asking, always asking and never a closed question with a simple answer he can at least attempt to make honest. Good. He puts his hand up to the wall and a section slides away, revealing the dark corridor beyond.

“Through here.” He won’t ever be able to answer her completely, but tonight he is not concerned with trying. He has a drivesuit ready, in her size and outfitted slightly beyond Tal’dore’s current standard. Percy has known for a long time it would take something like this to push him into the drift again. He has a suit for Vex too, of course, he is confident they’d be compatible if he allowed it, but he made Keyleth’s first, in case –, in case of – …well, this. He leads her to it, already discarding the layers of clothing he regrets choosing to wear.

“Percy…”

“Yes?” He looks up, suit half-on, the light from his Workshop glancing strangely off his glasses.

“What’s this for?”

“We’re going after the others.”

“In what?”

“Ah.” He pushes his glasses up his nose and turns to gesture to the cavernous darkness. “ _Diplomacy_.”

She slightly ruins the dramatic moment by echoing, “ _Diplomacy_?” Percy lets his arm drop and for a moment allows himself to regret not making _Diplomacy_ voice-activated or even gesture-activated, as he ducks his head and runs to a control panel to initiate the launch. Blue light glows from _Diplomacy_ ’s core as its engines begin to hum gently. Fine lines of blue begin to light up the delicate limbs Percy built for his scouting jaeger. There is a platform that extends from this entry space out into the conn-pod at _Diplomacy_ ’s head – Percy felt no need to separate the pilots in this jaeger, using it was always going to be a ‘die trying’ circumstance. It too is awash with blue light, easy enough to do, even if it had only been for the aesthetics of the thing. Keyleth stares. Percy looks at her, a little abashed and adjusts his glasses again. He has no words to offer that explain this.

“Okay.”

~

 _Diplomacy_ , once both its pilots are outfitted correctly, is much swifter than its namesake. Lightly armoured, lightly armed, Percy built it for exactly this purpose. However there is the matter of the neural handshake to address yet, and Keyleth isn’t quite caught up in memory enough to miss his nerves.

“We’ll manage,” she says, reaching out across the conn-pod that Percy hasn’t had time to refit after recent events. He knows they will; it is imperative. He looks at where her hand clasps his shoulder and nods. It is not failure he is afraid of; it is the price of success.

Just as the suits he’d built were designed to be donned with the aid of a co-pilot alone, _Diplomacy_ doesn’t require any assistance to launch. Soon enough they stand, deep to _Diplomacy_ ’s ankles in the Osmitt Sea, with the countdown to neural handshake chiming in their ears.

 _Percival_... Percy is ready, tensed against hearing the voice as subtly as he can manage. If Keyleth notices anything she doesn’t show it. He turns his head away, pretending to be concerned with one of the readouts, invested in nothing but the test of his design. _Percival_ … Smoke comes with the voice this time, uncurling from deep within. He feels it dragging, cool like glass, as it traces up his spine and settles around his shoulders. The black tendrils drift across his vision and he shudders. He has no desire to see how in control Percival Frederickstein von Mussel Klossowski de Rolo the Third will be when his vision is totally lost. He has only an instant to contemplate the chilling possibilities, then the connection is established and he is thrust into memories.

A tiny redheaded girl is racing through grasses that come up to her waist. She laughs and waves her hand, summoning some wind-spirits to chase and to chase her. They may only exist in her mind, but she runs on, chasing the wind itself as it traces endless spirals in the grasses. She shifts as she runs, becoming paler, her hair darkening to brown, her clothes stiffening around her into a noble’s dress. She runs still, hampered a little by the clothing, and the winds she chases colour too, until they are more children. Older, faster, still impossible to catch, but visible, dark hair flying behind them as they run – Through halls now, well-lit but nowhere near as bright as before, the sun that streams through wide windows pale and wintry.

And Percy is running with them, seeking the others too and wishing they would stop to look at him, so he can see their faces again. _Yes, Percival_ … the deep rasp in his mind makes him recoil, pushing him out of the memory and into the drift proper. He sees/feels Keyleth standing behind him, watching and he forces himself to think, to reach out for the panels he knows are there, imagining standing, walking, waking and when he turns Keyleth moves with him. They are standing side by side in the blue-washed conn-pod and they are together, adrift in the stream. The shadows are gone from his vision, or perhaps he’s just compensating with Keyleth’s, somehow, but no matter. They have business now and the rest can be dealt with later.

The running-memories propelled them some distance out into the Osmitt Sea, driven after _Trinket_ by the guidance of the tracker he’d – thank Gods – thought to reinforce during his nocturnal repairs. Not far enough, however, to escape the returning patrols. _Arcane Avenger_ and _Monster Stonejaw_ are returning to the Keep and ping them.

“Unidentified jaeger, you are in Tal’dore waters and there are no kaiju in range. Please advise your callsign, origin, destination and intent,” Allura’s cool voice sounds over comms. Percy feels the hum of Keyleth’s nerves beneath his skin as he prepares to reply.

“ _Diplomacy_ , unaffiliated craft piloted by –“ he looks at Keyleth, decides not to give her name and there’s no time to give his, anyway, “ –friends. Pursuing _Trinket_ , origin Emon outpost Greyskull, bearing west. Pilots –“ he breaks off again; not his place, not his secret to tell. Monster breaks in with Pike and Grog.

“Has Vex taken _Trinket_ out alone?”

“Is that Percy?”

“Sh! _Grog_!”

“What?” Percy swears he can hear Allura sigh.

“ _Diplomacy_ standby, _Monster Stonejaw_ is coming to assist.” Percy hears Pike and Grog’s excited cheer distantly; another memory flits across his brain and consumes him.

This time the running is frantic. His bare feet pushing through powder-soft snow to the broken ground beneath. A hundred tiny cuts sting and burn but there is far greater pain behind him and he presses on. The hand in his trembles and the light pressure is comforting, for now. Percy turns his head – not to look back, he knows what’s behind him, remembers _those_ faces well enough – but to see his sister again. She is hard to behold, her face alight with grim determination as it will be for moments yet.

It is not a decision, exactly, to keep his eyes fixed on her. He doesn’t think of turning away, because he can’t. He did this, he led his sister to her death and he deserves to watch as the arrows hit, to note the exact moment that the light leaves her face, to watch her fall. He twists as he runs on, in the way that he didn’t last time, making sure he can see her as the shadows gather around her, as darkness envelopes them both.

 _Percival_ …

“Percy?”

“Percy…”

“Percy!”

Two voices over comms and one echoing through the conn-pod are just enough to tear him back to the bitter present. He shivers, the memory of cold air against thoroughly ruined clothing still clinging to his skin. He looks over at Keyleth, whose concern will be a worry for another day, they don’t have the time for it now.

“Yes?” It’s a little terse but he sounds like himself, relieving fear he didn’t know he felt.

“That was…” Keyleth’s hands are over her mouth in horror.

“Yes. We’ll have to deal with that at some point.”

“So uh…” Pike’s voice cuts Keyleth off before she can begin to protest “What’s going on?”

“Yeah,” Grog’s voice now, “Vex has _Trinket_ and she’s gone after Clarence, right? ‘Caus he took Vax and they’re like, twins and stuff.”

“She took _Trinket_ out alone?”

“Oh no, Pike,” Percy says, tone as reassuring as his words aren’t, “She took Scanlan as well.”

 _Monster_ and _Diplomacy_ make their way west and Percy clings to composure with all his force of will. Smoke curls at the corners of his vision; he ignores it. Harder to ignore is Keyleth in his mind. Their handshake is unstable, he knows – even if it wasn’t obvious that the slightest slip will push one or other of them into reminiscence, there are monitors flashing constant warnings about their tenuous link. They’re compatible, they must be to get this far, but their link needs time, needs nurturing, needs half a dozen things Percy is unwilling to give. If they survive this adventure he will retreat to his Workshop and do his best to pretend that this never happened. For now, Keyleth is hovering, like she often does behind his shoulder but _in his mind_ , which is far worse. Instead of some new design he’s unwilling to share while half finished, she is peering over to view his memories, his past.

 _I will get rid of her for you_. Percy, idly wondering why they have to spend so much time adrift in _his_ mind, is unprepared for the thought. _You don’t need her here. She doesn’t have to Know. Let me out, Percival…_ He shakes his head and his vision clears momentarily. A free part of his mind or maybe Keyleth’s, has been calmly watching the purple dot that denotes _Trinket_ as their blue dot and _Monster_ ’s red close on it.

“Vex!” Pike calls, as soon as they are within range, “Scanlan! What’s going on?”

“Oh hi guys!” Scanlan’s cheerful voice comes back after a second’s delay. “We’re just hanging out, going for a little walk, maybe bump into some critters, what about you?”

“You went out on your own!” Pike says, in a lesser version of her telling-off-Grog voice.

“Yeah!” Grog adds, “What if you like, met a monster or something? It’s not fair that you get to fight it by yourselves.”

“Vex… Percy told us about Vax,” Keyleth says, “We want to help.” Percy bites off a snide remark; he knows how hard it is to involve others in personal.

“Guys, guys!” Scanlan interjects, “It’s just a suicide mission to the centre of the Osmitt, where all the beasties are coming from. _Trinket_ ’s got this.” Sometimes, Scanlan’s sarcasm is very hard to identify, but he’s never been that complimentary about _Trinket_. Vex doesn’t say anything, but the two jaeger are allowed to join _Trinket_ without complaint.

“Percy?” Vex says, after an hour or more pressing west. “How did you find us?”

“I uh, I had boosted the range on _Trinket_ ’s homing beacon while I was fixing him, it should be able to track you to Issylra now.”

“Oh. I thought maybe…” He knows and in that moment is sorry he hasn’t, in fact, put tracers on all the drivesuits, or even just embedded them in his friends’ skin, for all the difficulties that would present.

“At least it helped find Vex and Scanlan,” Keyleth says softly at his side. Percy nods. Good, but not enough.

It doesn’t matter, as it turns out. They hit a cluster of kaiju after another twenty minutes’ march.

“Kevin!” Grog cries in delight as a disgusting mess of multiple eyes on stalks comes floating towards them. _Monster_ swings; one giant fist, sharp spiked like a mace slams into the creature’s side sending ripples of sonic energy through it. A second fist, this one hammer-shaped and flaming, crunches in from the other side. Grog and Pike are old hands and their laughter echoes through the comm channel as they tear through their foe. A second kaiju reaches for _Diplomacy_ , a four-legged beast with heavy armed plates and a mouth full of sharp and deadly teeth. Keyleth swings one of _Diplomacy_ ’s arms around extending a whip-like appendage to grapple it. Percy chuckles and glances at a nearby panel. Electricity courses down their arm and the kaiju convulses with each pulse. When it falls limp in their grip Keyleth pulls the arm back, revealing burnt flesh beneath, where the electricity has burned through the armour to the tender flesh beneath.

 _Trinket_ roars with Vex’s fury and slams into another kaiju with both claws. The creature, a many headed thing with too many teeth, just screams defiance. One head swings out, aiming for the odd-shaped conn-pod that serves as Trinket‘s head. Percy sets aside a part of his mind (and one of _Diplomacy_ ’s camera-rigs) to watch as _Trinket_ ’s head draws back and something approximating a bear’s muzzle clamps down on the head, tearing through it. A successful thought, that.

Their monster has recovered, however, and as it lunges forward it clamps down a bite onto _Diplomacy_ ’s other arm. Keyleth yells in surprise and Percy smiles grimly. That makes it an easier target. The monster rears back as the bullets slam into the back of its throat. Percy empties the pistol into its head, noting with satisfaction the way each bullet seems to penetrate further through the thick skull until the last bursts out the other side. It releases the arm as it falls back and disappears into the dark water. As one, Percy and Keyleth begin to look around for the next target.

 _Monster_ has joined _Trinket_ against the hydra and Keyleth is distressed to note the thing seems to have as many heads as before, if not more. Percy, watching as _Monster_ slams into the creature’s side with mace and hammer hands, thinks ‘I really need to make them a blade,’ and files the thought away on a rapidly growing list in his mind. His hands twitch with the desire to flesh out one design or other. In the moment, with the adrenaline of battle fading in the absence of any direct combatant, another memory floats past in the stream and this time he feels Keyleth slide into it. As Percy feels the tug of her mind on his, his first thought is ‘oh good; it’s not me this time.’ Then he sinks into the memory alongside her.

Keyleth stands with another tall half elf at the edge of a group of mixed races and individuals. The glance Percy spares them makes them mostly half-elfs, with the odd human, full elf or person of shorter stature; gnome, dwarf, halfling… The man with Keyleth stands proud, with a face Percy knows well – this man is influential and he is working hard not to show emotion. From the faces of the crowd behind them, probably sadness and fear rather than anger. He looks down at Keyleth, like she’s a child and she up at him and then out. Percy turns, taking in the high cliff edge and the mountains that fall out beneath them. A woman stands on the edge of the cliff. With her long bright red hair, braided through with flowers and the staff she carries, Percy has to turn back to be sure he’s not looking at Keyleth. He’s not, because _that_ ’s Keyleth, tears silently flowing down her cheeks.

Percy puts a hand out to squeeze her shoulder. “Come on,” he murmurs, “Vex needs us.”  
“Mom…” Keyleth whispers, leaning around Percy. “Don’t go, please.” Percy sighs internally.  
“But she will,” he says softly, as gentle as he can. “She always will and it will only hurt to stay and watch.” He pulls her into a hug. “Let it go for now.” Sometimes, he gives good advice; that doesn’t mean he takes it.

“Hey!” Another unfamiliar voice sounds over comms. “Hey! What are you doing? That’s our mark!” Percy turns, eyes sweeping over the monitor until they rest on the new jaeger, screaming towards the group from the west. Shining silver-white, it carries a large staff-like implement which it throws into the side of the kaiju as they watch.

“Relax darling,” a second voice, this one female drawls, “They’ve softened it up for us.” As the jaeger charges forward it reaches out and pulls the spear? staff? – Percy spares a second to desperately desire a closer look at the weapon – spinning it to slam the creature again with the heavy moonstone counter-weight at the other end. The hydra screams and thrashes wildly. _Monster_ steps forward and slams both fists down, each one catching a head and crushing the skull. With a final pitiful scream the hydra dies.

Four jaegers stand in a rough circle and look down at the hydra’s body as its buffeted by the waves.

“So,” Percy says after a moment, “I assume you’re from Issylra. I am Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo the Third, my co-pilot is Keyleth of the Ashari and this is _Diplomacy_ ; to my right is _Monster Stonejaw_ , from Greyskull Keep of Tal’dore, piloted by Pike Trickfoot and Grog Strongjaw and to my left, _Umbra Ursa_ , known colloquially as _Trinket_ , piloted by Vex’ahila and Scanlan Shorthalt, also from Greyskull.”

“I’m Kash,” the male pilot replies, “My co-pilot here is Zahra, and this is _Blessed Moonlight_ and that was our kill. The Slayer’s Take doesn’t take kindly to poachers.”  
“The Slayer’s Take?” Keyleth asks.

“From Vasselheim,” Scanlan answers on a private comm channel. “It’s bounty hunting for kaiju, you’re paid when you bring the body back.”

“You can have the body,” Vex says, “We’re looking for another one. A kaiju took my brother.” There’s silence from the newcomers now.

“Yeh, its name is Clarence,” Grog offers, “And it’s big and it’s got this like, tentacles all on its face right?” Percy quietly sends a file on ‘Clarence’ to _Moonlight_. 

“Have you seen it?”

“I don’t recall anything like that,” Kash answers, “Z?”

“Those kaiju- we call them ilithid – I have seen wandering south of here,” Zahra’s smooth voice says after a moment. “I can show you the way.”

“Let’s go.” Vex says instantly.

“Are you sure?” Kash wants to know, “Vanessa will be wanting that corpse.”

“Uh, we can carry that for you,” Grog says, “Right Pike?”

“Yeah! We’re the strongest!” With that, _Monster_ reaches down to shoulder the hydra and begins charging off after _Moonlight_ and _Trinket_. Keyleth and Percy remain for a moment, holding _Diplomacy_ back, scanning the waters for ripples that go against the natural pattern of the waves.

“Percy…”

“We should catch up with the others.” It is a shoddy deflection but he’s in luck; more kaiju are closing on the advance group. “We _really_ should catch up with the others.”

It doesn’t take long; _Monster_ , laden with hydra, is at the rear, with _Moonlight_ and _Trinket_ side-by-side in the lead. As a small blue crest on the distant horizon signals land, of some sort, they begin to encounter resistance. Moonlight is a capable fighter, wielding the strange counter-weighted spear with an efficiency Percy quietly admires; one or two features, including the third joint in the jaeger’s arms, show promise for wider implementation.

It is a long, bloody slog, the tedium alleviated only slightly by the nagging fear for his life and a little further by the competition between _Moonlight_ and _Monster_ , both of whom are clearly enjoying the sport. As the comms crackle with cheers, jeers and friendly jibes from both sides _Trinket_ ’s silence is conspicuous. As Vex and Scanlan push unwaveringly onward to the landmass, they are assailed from all sides. It doesn’t slow them. Sharp, silver claws and teeth tear through tentacles and clumsy, monstrous fists. _Diplomacy_ , Percy’s mind in ascendance for once, darts through the melee, under, around, even over kaiju in pursuit of _Trinket_.

Percy has no qualms about leaving _Monster_ and these strangers to deal with the mass of kaiju. If the nagging in the back of his mind is Keyleth, it is silenced by the reminder that Grog glories in the thrill of battle and that Pike won’t let him get hurt. _They are expendable_. He doesn’t think that - not of Grog and Pike at least. 

_Trinket_ shudders under the weight of a monster; muscles rippling like stripes across its back as it lands in a pounce on top of the jaeger. Percy and Keyleth wince in unison and lift one arm to fire at the kaiju. As they sight along the arm, the kaiju is thrown back in a burst of purple light. The kaiju roars in frustration, a deep, guttural noise that cuts through the clamour of the battle behind them. _Trinket_ roars in answer and a glowing purple fist slams into the kaiju’s head from behind. It whimpers slightly as it collapses.

They are already in waters shallow enough that the bulk of the kaiju remains above the surf; _Trinket_ pushes forward and _Diplomacy_ follows. A quick scan of the island reveals dozens of kaiju-like lifesigns to _Diplomacy_ ’s sensors. Analysis - the best computational machinery to come Percy’s way these last five years is in this jaeger’s sparking heart - suggests categories I and II, likely localised to this island for safety, venturing out into deeper waters only by necessity. _Diplomacy_ hangs back, widening the scans, trying to watch _Trinket_ ’s back.

What kaiju there are seem to hang back, appreciating the threat that the represent. That ever-detached part of Percy’s mind begins to speculate; how do these creatures breed? Would it be feasible, even possible, to eliminate their eggs or their young and reduce the population for a generation? Could this relatively sheltered island, so far from any human settlement, represent a breeding colony? Questions for another time, of course, he cannot afford to allow his mind to wander anymore than it already has.

 _Trinket_ pushes ever onward, into the deepening heart of the island. There is some interference on the scanners; too many life signs, combined with the mineral-heavy soil leave them little to no chance of picking out a human sign. He won’t say anything. This is for Vex, to find what closure, what acceptance she can. He is not the one who must chose to abandon the search. Instead he traces the lines of _Trinket_ ’s back, noting where the brown, matte finish is marred by the bright silver of the metal he used to heal awkward, jagged tears. Hardly his best work. Nevertheless, he is glad he anticipated the need.

The jungle closes around them. _Trinket_ is tall enough that it breaches the treetops, but _Diplomacy_ is smaller. To their eyes the forest teems with things - too small to be kaiju - with flailing tentacles, humanoid features and sinister emanations. Percy watches warily, keeping as many within sight for a clear shot as he can as they push deeper and deeper. The thickening brush make it hard to achieve all his little tactical ambitions; keep sight of _Trinket_ , keep an advantageous position, keep all of the potential hostiles in sight, keep an ear out for distress from _Monster_ or _Moonlight_ … _Trinket_ is his main concern of course and they don’t make it easy, moving forward without adjusting their pace to their surroundings.

In a moment of distraction - one of the humanoids moves too close for comfort and he hesitates, ready to electrocute - _Diplomacy_ ’s line-of-sight to _Trinket_ breaks. Somehow, it is enough. There is a great scraping of metal on metal then a sickly squelch, a thud and –

“Pike!” Scanlan breaks into the open comm channel, but the rest of his words are drowned out in the chaos that follows. _Diplomacy_ accelerates, tiny one-use booster rockets on its feet flaring to life for an infinitesimal increase in propulsion that nevertheless lifts the underweight jaeger off the ground and sends them shooting into the open space beyond. There _Trinket_ stands, on all-fours, crouched protectively over a tiny, black haired figure and roaring defiance at a familiar tentacled kaiju.

“Vax? Vax!” If Vex knows she’s screaming into the open comm channel, Percy doubts she cares. _Trinket_ ’s purple accessory hand extends again and it bends to cradle Vax. The hand lifts the body, pressing it close to _Trinket_ ’s armoured chest, where it – he – will be safest. The movement takes all of their concentration, as the hand was emphatically not designed to be gentle and the kaiju tenses, shifting back ready to strike.

 _Diplomacy_ ’s hand arcs up, the barrel at the end rotating so that the next bullet is in line. Percy brings their other hand around, curling the electro-motive fingers around the barrel and unloading the jaeger’s remaining charge into it, just as the bullet streaks out. By all rights, it shouldn’t work, but the electrically charged bullet shoots across the clearing. It sinks into the kaiju’s flesh, which hisses and sizzles as the electricity courses through its body. It roars and _Diplomacy_ fires again. Bullet after bullet goes whizzing past _Trinket_ , slamming into the kaiju and forcing it back until one final shot penetrates the creature’s skull and out the other side, smearing bloody chunks of brains across the trees for a good distance on all sides.

 _Diplomacy_ ’s screens are flashing a hundred different warnings; proximity, drift-mismatch and of course, low battery. There is enough concordance in its pilots to keep it standing as Monster crashes through the wilderness to reach them. A tense and difficult few minutes follow as _Trinket_ maneuvers Vax up to Pike in _Monster_ ’s conn-pod. She’s quick to reassure Vex – Vax is, by some miracle, alive – but he needs to return to base, right away – just as the line falls silent again, Kash bursts in.

“Oi! Do we have to do all the fighting ourselves?” Percy sighs, deliberately keeping his response on the universal channel.

“I suppose we ought to give them a helping hand.”


	3. Addendum: My Turn for a Disaster

The standard procedure when foreign jaegers approach a base is to challenge them at a predetermined perimeter, where they will wait for an escort, usually a local jaeger, to bring them to the base. This way, friendly jaegers can be guided past the mines and charges that provide an extra line of defence while unfriendly jaegers can be pushed into them. The four of them pass that point without a peep from Greyskull. Technically, _Trinket_ and _Monster_ provide that escort and _Diplomacy_ hardly needs it. Still, _Trinket_ doesn’t have an officially sanctioned drift team and _Diplomacy_ doesn’t have an officially sanctioned anything.

“Pike, could you or Grog hail the Keep please?” Percy asks, “They should have buzzed us by now.”

She does and the line crackles in answer. As one, Percy and Keyleth move _Diplomacy_ into a run. For a brief moment, they are almost in sync, before Percy’s rationalizing brain takes over; _Trinket_ has Vax and _Moonlight_ is a stranger, _Monster_ will have Pike, their best medic, distracted with worry for Vax and anyway, _Diplomacy_ is fastest, it makes sense to send them on ahead. Keyleth isn’t thinking about any of that - only of Kima and Allura and Gilmore, of all the terrible reasons why they might not respond.

_Diplomacy_ shoots into its hangar - adapted, once again, to dock solo. Keyleth and Percy race through the dark corridors, still in their drive suits. They find Kima outside the medbay, propped up on a staff, one giant cut down her face.

“Kima?”

“Allie’s inside.” She jerks her head. “Gilmore’s with her.” Relief makes Keyleth sag but Percy isn’t so easily reassured.

“Pike’s on her way, Kima,” Keyleth is saying, “She’ll be here soon, with the others. We found Vax!” Kima nods, obviously pleased but preoccupied.

“Kima, what happened?” Percy’s words are distant, echoing with something - someone else’s voice.

“It was _Hostile Takeover_ , that pair from Wildmount, the Briarwoods. They had help, some of the ground staff, apparently. They need a jaeger for some construction they’re doing apparently, something buried in the ruins of the Whitestone base.” Smoke. Shadow. Darkness. _Percival…_ “They’ve been waiting for a chance for months. Coming to Tal’dore, getting Uriel’s approval, getting assigned here, it was all for this.”

“I have to check something,” He blurts. “Wait here.” Not a proud or convincing lie, but there isn’t time, there isn’t anything and _Diplomacy_ needs recharging and repair which leaves…

This hangar has been waiting years. It was the first modification he made when he came to this base, a place to store… it. His first construct - though it looks nothing like it did then and probably shares no components with the original structure - the one without a name, merely a designation; PFVMKDR3. The only part of his old life he kept, apart from the shadow. He climbs into it purposefully, past the five names engraved carefully on the barrel on one arm, curling round the long barrel that is pulled across the back, too large to fit in the hangar fully assembled. Percy finds the tiny access hatch and slides into something that is almost a conn-pod, though it sits not at the head of the jaeger but at its heart.

_Percival._

His drivesuit interfaces easily and he initiates the start sequence mechanically, biding his time, waiting until the last moment to look to his side. The co-pilot station is empty. The drift comes online and he slides across easily.

_Percival_ … crooning now, almost caressing him as he sinks into the drift. His last coherent thought before the overwhelming stimulation of the drift takes him is of shadow, coalescing out of the darkness so that a huge, hideous creature of smoke and malice stands at the other station. It has come from him and is other than him and their goals align.

_Vengeance _.__

__This is what it means to be compatible._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try to be realistic about what writing I have the time to do. While this marks the end of the story I set out to tell, 'permutations' does after all, refer to the myriad ways it is possible to arrange a finite number of objects (or people.) There are a few more drift-compatible pairings I'd like to explore and if I have time I will! 
> 
> In the meantime; thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Devoted to Ciwu, because their PacRim AU headcanons gave me the idea in the first place. I'm so sorry that I don't quite agree with your match-ups.


End file.
